Emotional Intelligence Daniel Goleman

My sister leaves some last words before committing suicide, and everyone who sees those words die. My grandmother is the first to go, and then my father. In the end, even my mother jumps off a 30-story building. The reporters fall over themselves trying to score an interview with me, and the police interrogate me. Countless people want to know what my sister's last words are. However, I keep my silence until my sister's tenth death anniversary. I see a figure before her grave, and I'm agitated beyond imagination. I know it's time for death to take me.

During a kindergarten parent-teacher conference, a rich wife accuses me of stealing her bag. I'm baffled. I bought the bag myself abroad, and it even has my name etched on it. However, when I scrutinize the bag, I discover that my name is missing. I call my husband, and he impatiently says, "I gave your bag to Jen. She's fresh out of college and needs an expensive bag to make herself look good. Even Finn said the bag is too young for you—it suits Jen more. You're too old for these things. You should be glad to even have a fake one." I bark out an exasperated laugh. I can go without having a husband, but the bag has to be returned to me.

I was in a car accident while saving my brothers. However, instead of gratitude, they urged the doctors to amputate my legs. "Carol, we're sorry," they said through tears. "We're useless… but don't worry. Even if we have to sell our blood or our kidneys, we'll make sure you're taken care of." Right after surgery, they abandoned me in a shabby apartment. Blood seeped through the sheets as they looked at me with teary eyes—then left in a hurry, claiming they needed to earn money for my treatment. I did not want to drag them down anymore. Enduring the pain, I crawled to the rooftop of a tall building, planning to end my life. That's when I saw it—inside a luxury hotel, a grand celebration was taking place. My brothers were there doting on another girl. She was eating an extravagant cake I had never even dreamed of, wearing a designer princess gown worth a fortune, sparkling with jewels. Everyone called her the Smith family's one and only princess. They had even hired a world-class symphony orchestra to play Happy Birthday just for her. While I lay bleeding in a dingy apartment, they would not spend a few dollars on bandages for me. I watched as my eldest brother gently fed her cake, his eyes full of tenderness. "Jasmine, only you deserve to be our one and only little sister." The second brother placed a tiara on her head with care. "Even for the smallest birthday, we won't let you suffer a single moment of disappointment." The third knelt to help her into a pair of crystal shoes. "Jasmine, you're our most precious darling." Then, standing on the stage, Jasmine held up the black credit card they had gifted her and smiled sweetly. "Brothers," she said, "Carol lost her legs saving you. Maybe you should go see how she's doing?" My eldest brother let out a mocking laugh. "She's not worth it. Now that she's crippled, she'll never be able to compete with you again. She got what she deserved."

My best friend, Sienna Monroe, who always swears she'll never marry, goes with me to the fertility clinic and suddenly snatches away the donor profile I choose. That's when I know she has come back to life too. In my previous life, I wanted a mixed-race baby, so I chose the IVF route. Sienna mocked me, saying I'd just be raising someone else's child. But two weeks later, I was taken to the royal palace of Valoria. It turned out the donor I picked was none other than the Prince of Valoria, a man of eight national lineages. He not only insisted on marrying me as his princess but also promised that our child would inherit the throne. The baby and I were cherished by the entire royal family, so much so that the jewels they draped over me nearly bent my back. Meanwhile, Sienna flaunted her extreme feminist stance and offended business partners. In the end, she was fired and blacklisted across the industry. Sienna spent all her savings on a plane ticket to attend my party, where I would introduce my baby to everyone. But when I went to welcome her, she crushed my son to death in her hands and splashed concentrated acid on me. "You don't deserve such good fortune! You worthless witch!" But when I opened my eyes again, I had gone back to the day I asked her to go with me to the fertility clinic.

After my granddaughter is bullied by her classmates, the bully's family not only refuses to apologize but behaves arrogantly as well. Since they have connections in the city, the school doesn't dare intervene. I turn to the police, but they only urge me to let it go. The bully's family even boasted that they have people in the court, daring me to sue them. With every path to justice cut off, I have no choice but to take out the two Medals of Honor left behind after my son and daughter-in-law died in service, and kneel at the gates of the military compound. Six years ago, when the general personally delivered those medals to our home, he'd said, "Your son and daughter-in-law gave their lives for the country. They are heroes, martyrs, and the pride of our nation." But now, I want to ask him again. Why is it that when a martyr's daughter is bullied, no one protects her?

My older sister Katie said she missed me and requested I visit her. The second day at her place, the apocalyptic heatwave arrived. I fought tooth and nail in the supermarket for food and coolant—she told me I'm shameless and have no self-respect. I offered a high price in the community chat for supplies—she sneered at me and said that anything stored for so long must be disgusting, contaminated by bacteria. Yet, she threw herself into the arms of the man living across the hallway just for a bit of food. While cuddled in his arms, she watched me die in the heatwave. When I opened my eyes again, I heard her on the phone saying she missed me. Well, keep on missing me!

My twin sister, Ruby Stone, and I split up after our parents' divorce. She stays with Mom, while I went with Dad. Since the divorce, he's sunk into a deep depression, gambling away every penny we have. We move into a dark, damp apartment, and life becomes an endless struggle. Every day, I go to school and quietly work a part-time job to keep us afloat. Then, out of nowhere, Ruby—whom I haven't heard from in forever—sends me a link to a live stream. "Check this out, Aria. There's a surprise waiting for you." I click it, and my jaw drops. I'm the one topping the trending live streams. The screen splits in two. On one side, I sit in my dingy apartment, hunched over homework under the dim light. On the other side, Mom and Dad cuddle with Ruby on the fancy couch of their sprawling villa. The comments came pouring in. "Let's see what happens when twins are raised on opposite sides of fortune all the way to 18." "Aria still doesn't know, right? Her parents never divorced. They're loaded and perfectly happy. Ruby's life has been like a dream too." "Poor Aria. She's always starving and never has anything decent to wear. Isn't that basically abuse?" "She's the more sensible one, so her parents decided to raise her poorly."

My husband, Frank Myer, ruined himself by taking random medication and coming to me for treatment. I simply sneered at him and deliberately stalled for time, letting him end up disabled for life! In my previous life, my husband had purposely ruined himself to help his childhood sweetheart, Karen White, get promoted. I anxiously asked if he had taken anything harmful, but he swore he had not. When I asked him to do a full checkup, he accused me of having no ethics and claimed that I would even scam my own husband for a promotion. His childhood sweetheart insisted on a conservative treatment instead. I kicked out his unqualified sweetheart and performed the surgery myself. It was a total success, but she made a huge scene about it after feeling humiliated by being thrown out. She even threatened suicide. My husband was furious and lied that the surgery had failed, even reporting me for forcing him into surgery against medical advice, getting me blacklisted from the medical field. His sweetheart, however, simply dabbed some disinfectant on him, and he announced that she had cured him, instantly making her famous and earning her a promotion. When I confronted him, my husband said that if it weren't for me, he wouldn't have had to go to such lengths for her, and that I am the reason he was suffering. Then, he suffocated me with a pillow. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back to the very day he ruined himself.

After my father died, my mother remarried and took my younger sister and me with her. But her new husband had one condition—she could only bring one child. From people who used to hang around my dad, I later learned that my grandfather was actually a wealthy antique collector. My sister clung to him for her own future, refusing to let go. But in his eyes, her only job was to get straight A's; everything else—her clothes, her meals, her allowance—was kept to the bare minimum. I went with my stepfather instead. His business took off, and we eventually moved into a huge mansion. He even set me up with an engagement to the heir of a powerful, wealthy family. My sister was eaten up with jealousy. One day, she doused me in gasoline and dragged us both back in time to that day we had to choose our futures. This time, she lunged for my stepfather's hand and held on tight. "I want to stay with Mom and Dad," she announced. I didn't miss a beat. I immediately ducked behind my grandfather. 'Fine, Phoebe. You're the one who chose a life as a bargaining chip. Don't blame me for it. You can have it.'

Xenia Lewis, the nepotism junior, is eager to craft an image of herself as a prodigy. To prove her talent, she requests to take the lead in court. But when confronted by the plaintiff's attorney's sharp questioning, she falters. Our defense unravels, instantly putting us at a disadvantage. After the verdict is announced, Xenia tearfully throws herself into the arms of my fiance, Zayne Scott. Her voice trembles with excuses. "The plaintiff's attorney was too harsh. It was my first time in court, and I was just too nervous!" Due to her incompetence, the defendant, who could have been acquitted, ends up behind bars. Yet, Zayne and my junior colleague, Hugo Wilkinson, indulge her with comforting words. "Don't be upset. No one wins every case." "With your cleverness, Xenia, you'll surely hold your own next time." Furious, I snap, "The court is a place to seek truth and uphold justice. It's not a playground for make-believe. Because of your mistake, an innocent person has been wronged. How can you live with yourself?" Feeling humiliated, Xenia breaks down, sobbing and threatening to harm herself. Resentful that I've hurt her, Zayne and Hugo distort the truth, shifting all the blame onto me. I end up as the scapegoat for her mistakes. Not only am I forced to resign in disgrace, but I also face disbarment. With nowhere to turn, my spirit shatters. While crossing the street, distraught and distracted, I'm hit by a car and killed. Then, when I wake up, I find myself reborn on the very day Xenia and I are set to appear in court.